I suspect there are many - like LD's post below:

Good ones that spring to mind a

Coming across a 21ft speedboat, 12 miles out with no-one aboard.. wetsuit,
skis, cigs and radio on.. just like the Marie Celeste.. turns out the guy
pulled it up to the beach and didn`t tie up.. and it drifted on out. Gave me
a case of quality scotch for finding it for him

Pushing along with a pod of pilot whales around you.. doesn't sound so neat
unless this was the English channel, 2miles offshore

Taking novices out and recalling incidents like the guy who had a pen in his
breast pocket (upside down) which penetrated his chin on a bouncer (ouch)

Ray

"noah" wrote in message
...
"Wrecked Boats" passes a lot of useful, and not so useful ;o)
information in the course of a day. Everything from "What do I do
when my boat won't start?", to "Dirty rotten Dem's/Rep's have stolen
my dog!"

I am interested in hearing about your favorite boating moment. I
don't care if it was in a canoe, or a 120mph cigarette.

Mine was (is) getting up at 3 in the morning to go duck hunting. My
friend and I really don't talk on the way to the river. Too busy
drinking our coffee, trying to wake up. Snarling. Wondering what the
hell we are doing up at this hour. Knowing that there is no place
that we would rather be.

When we get to the launch, the river is low, and frozen out to
mid-channel with a glaze of ice that reflects the moon and stars like
a mirror. Between the launch and the river is the semi-frozen mud.
30 yards of it.

Funny how 10,000 years of nature's best work can be reduced to
"F***ing mud!" when you drag a loaded Jon boat through it. Sinking
down, waders sucking in the mud, hoping you don't hit the infamous
"Deep hole!!" that drops above the waders.

The stars sparkled in the dark sky, and the skim ice broke and
shimmered as we pushed through it. We could hear the Canada geese and
Mallards stirring when we paused. The Boss hens were waking their
flocks. "Halloop! Haloop! Went. Went." Other than the Northern Loon,
there is no sound as beautiful as a flock of Canadas waking in the
dark. I have often suspected that, in a primeval musical voice, they
are singing "F***ing mud!!" in chorus.

We reach enough water to float us, still crispy with ice, and
literally "roll" into the boat. Getting wet would not be a good
thing, with the temperature at 25F. I squeeze the fuel bulb a few
times, cross my fingers, and pull the chord on my old 9.9. God Bless
that engine. I may be exposing a miserable life, but that engine has
been the most reliable thing I have ever known. Ignition!!!

I steer the boat between the grass islands, now frozen hayfields,
towards our duck blind downriver. The sun is, just slightly,
beginning to warm the Eastern sky. The Jon boat, loaded with decoys,
men, shotguns, coffee, and breakfast, is pushing through crunchy
water, and the Canadas are still complaining about the frozen mud, and
the sound of my engine.

There has never been a better morning, and I will repeat it as many
times as I can.

noah






Courtesy of Lee Yeaton,
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www.TheBayGuide.com/rec.boats